The Dog Who Stole Summer

Marcus stood at the edge of the pool, chlorine stinging his nose, while everyone else acted like they'd been best friends forever. Just three weeks into freshman year, and somehow the popular crew had already claimed the whole backyard like it was their personal kingdom.

"Hey, new kid!" someone yelled from the deep end. Marcus flinched. The name-calling had started on day one when Jordan, the baseball team's star pitcher, decided Marcus needed a label. Now it stuck like gum on his shoe.

He gripped his phone tighter. No texts. No invites. Just his mom asking if he was having fun.

A wet nose nudged his calf.

Marcus jumped. A golden retriever mix sat beside him, tail thumping against the pool deck like it was trying to send Morse code. The dog's tag read 'BUSTER.' This dog looked more like 'Mud Magnet' than anything.

Buster inched closer to Jordan's expensive baseball glove, which sat abandoned on a lounge chair. The one Jordan wouldn't shut up about in English class—custom leather, autographed by some pro player, probably cost more than Marcus's bike.

Before Marcus could react, Buster snatched the glove and bolted.

"HEY!" Jordan shouted from the pool. "My glove! That thing's worth—"

Marcus didn't think. He just sprinted after the dog, past the stunned silence, through the side gate, and down the street. His converse slapped against pavement, breath burning in his throat like he'd swallowed fire.

Buster stopped three blocks down, dropped the glove in a puddle, and looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

Marcus dropped to his knees, chest heaving. He grabbed the glove—dripping, muddy, but intact.

When they got back, the whole party was waiting.

Jordan stared at the muddy glove. Then at Marcus. Then at Buster, who was now demanding treats from whoever would provide them.

"Dude," Jordan said, "you literally chased my dog down in Chucks. That's... actually kind of legendary."

Someone fist-bumped Marcus. Someone else offered him a soda.

Marcus grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead. Sometimes the best moments happen when you're not trying to fit in at all.